


Valentine’s Day

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Valentine’s Day, a little bit of polyamory, england nt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: three little valentines themed fics for the holiday





	Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> I love you all - happy v day from me to you

John Stones fancied Leroy Sané.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret, per se. Most people knew it - the staff at City, some of the fans, half the players. John was obvious about it - he blushed whenever Leroy spoke to him; gazed wistfully at him across the locker room; tripped over his own feet when they got too close. It was humiliating, frankly - John prized himself on being cool as a cucumber, usually, entirely unphased by other human beings. Pulling was no problem - he was confident, collected. Leroy destroyed all that every time John looked at him. 

The only thing that kept John going was the belief that Leroy didn’t know. John wasn’t sure if he’d simply convinced himself that was true or not but he clung to it anyway - it’d be too humiliating if he thought Leroy knew how he felt. John went about his business, nursing his ridiculous crush and playing football pretty happily - until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

It was during a game - John couldn’t remember who they played for sure, all the games merged into one around Christmas time - but Leroy scored the most flawless goal, his skin glowing and his dimples popping, and John knew that he could no longer pine from afar. He had to try - somehow, he had to shoot his shot. The universe compelled him to. 

Valentine’s Day was coming up, and John had spent many a sleepless night concocting the perfect plan. He would send Leroy a series of anonymous love letters, leaving clues as to who was behind them. He decided that if it all went wrong, and Leroy was horrified by John’s affections, he could claim it was all a prank by Kyle or something. But, if it went right - Leroy would be flattered, maybe even into it. Maybe John would finally know if his lips were as soft as they looked. 

He went to a posh stationary shop and bought some fancy paper and a pen with diamonds glued all over it, praying no one would recognise him. He drove his bag of supplies lovingly home, Ariana Grande’s new album blasting through his speakers. His mind was whirring with things he wanted to say, his heart beating a little faster as he considered the possible outcomes of this mission. He didn’t even know if Leroy liked boys - the odds were that he didn’t. Still, John wasn’t going to let an insignificant detail like that get in his way. Everyone was a little bit gay. 

John got home and sat down in the kitchen, paper and pens in front of him. He had no idea where to start - there was so much he wanted to say. 

Dear Leroy, 

He began, and then scrunched up the paper and started again. 

Number 19, 

But that felt weird too. He took a third bit of paper and tried once more. 

Leroy,

It’s been a while now that I’ve felt like this and I still think of you first thing in the morning when I wake up. 

My day is always better when I know I’m going to be seeing you. When you won’t be there I don’t shave, I don’t do my hair. I don’t see the point. 

You make me feel like a teenager again. Your smile and your teeth and your hair. The way you play football. 

I have a huge crush on you, and I had to tell you. You are the perfect combination of sexy and cute, and you have to know how amazing you are. 

John sat back and looked at his letter. He wanted to sign it off in a special way - he didn’t just want to write a question mark. In a stroke of genius he picked up his phone and messaged Jadon Sancho on Instagram. 

Johnstonesofficial:  
hey bud  
Quick q  
How do you say from your secret admirer in German? 

Whilst he waited for a response John got up and made himself a protein shake, watching some black birds pick at the ground in the garden. His phone pinged and he returned to it excitedly to find a reply from Jadon. 

Sanchooo10:  
Hows it going John  
Apparently it’s this  
Von deinem heimlichen Verehrer 

Johnstonesofficial:  
Magic sancho, thank you 

John signed off the end of the letter and then read it over a couple of times. He didn’t want to go too hard too early, didn’t want to scare Leroy off. Before he could think himself out of it he folded up the letter and stuck it in an envelope, lovingly licking the seal closed. He took the letter and put it in his training bag, planning to get to the grounds a little bit earlier than usual the next day in order to slip his words into Leroy’s locker. 

— 

The team were pulling on their football boots the next day in the locker rooms, bantering and joking as always. John was quieter than normal, full of anticipation and nerves. His eyes were glued to the doors in wait. Every time they opened his heart jack hammered a bit, his palms sweaty - and then he was there. 

Leroy had headphones on and a far off look on his face, his mind clearly elsewhere. John’s heart clenched in his chest at the sight of him, any doubt about his decision evaporating. He watched surreptitiously as Leroy slung his back pack down at his locker, unzipping his jacket and taking off his head phones. John almost blacked out when he saw Leroy open his cubby and pick up the envelope, turning it over in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed. He sat down on the bench and pushed his finger along the flap, ripping the envelope open. 

John watched as Leroy’s eyes scanned the paper once, twice, three times. Suddenly his eyes snapped up, looking right at John. John dropped his own eyes to the floor immediately, standing up and turning his back to Leroy, cheeks flaming. 

“This a prank?” Leroy said, voice cutting through the din of the locker room. 

“Is what a prank?” Someone called back, maybe Mendy. 

“Someone’s written me a love letter.” 

There was silence and then laughter, chatter filling the room again. 

“Let me see,” Mendy said, moving towards Leroy. Leroy put the letter back in his locker, shaking his head. 

“No way,” he said, causing John to sigh in relief. “Private.” 

John took a breath and turned around, hoping his cheeks weren’t so obviously red anymore. Leroy was sat down with his head bent, tying his shoes up. John gazed at him softly, wanting nothing more than to go over and put his arms around him. 

“John?” 

John looked around at Kyle, who was observing him suspiciously. “Yeah?” 

“I asked if you were ready to head out?” 

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, pasting a smile onto his face. “C’mon then.” 

— 

John left the next letter three days later. In this one he told Leroy how the way he played football made John feel like he was witnessing history. Leroy ran on the pitch like he was on ice skates, gliding ethereally (he’d needed to use a thesaurus for that word). 

John addressed the letter the same as the last one - Leroy - and signed it off with ‘from your admiring team mate’ in German, provided once again by Jadon. 

John waited for Leroy to come in the same way he had a few days before, pretending to tie his shoe laces for ages. This time, when Leroy walked in, he didn’t have his headphones on. He said hello to Bernardo and Sergio and then he toed off his trainers, absently opening the locker. John held his breath as Leroy picked up the letter, turned it over once - and then put it back down, in the back of the locker. 

John looked away and tried not to be too disappointed - Leroy didn’t want to open it at work, in front of everyone. That was fine. It didn’t mean anything - 

“Guys. Who’s leaving me these letters?” John looked up at Leroy, who was looking around the room with his eyebrows raised. “Are you making fun of me?” 

John’s face drained of colour, his mouth ran dry. The lads in the room looked at each other, then back at Leroy. 

“Not me,” started Raheem, shrugging. 

“Me neither,” said Kevin, quickly followed by Kyle and Ilkay. 

John didn’t know what to do - if he denied it, it’d ruin his plan to admit it on Valentine’s Day. If he confessed now, he’d be humiliated and potentially rejected and everyone would know. 

“If I do not know who it is, I can’t thank you,” Leroy shrugged matter-of-factly, eyes sweeping over John’s. 

“How you gonna thank him?” Mendy laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “You and the lucky man?” 

Leroy smirked his response, choosing not to buy into Mendy’s nonsense. “Whoever it is. Just tell me,” he said, addressing the room before going back to his task. John’s nails were digging hard enough into his skin to leave little crescent shaped grooves. 

— 

Kyle pulled him up at lunch, cornering him when he was trying to eat a banana and browse through the sports section on the BBC website. He pulled up a chair at John’s empty table and leaned in close, his brows pulled in close together. 

“Who gave you the bright idea to leave Sané love letters?” 

John blinked at him a couple of times, considered denying it. “I thought it was a good idea?” 

“We aren’t at school, John - fucking hell. What if he’s upset and he wants a restraining order or something? What are you thinking?” 

John frowned. “What if he goes for it though?” 

“Mr fucking optimist, Jesus - John - you can’t send anonymous love letters to your team mates on the off chance they find it... cute, or whatever it is you’re going for. Leroy’s straight!” 

“Tell you that did he?” 

“Did he tell YOU he’s into blokes?” 

John sat back and sighed, shaking his head. “Down for whatever until proven straight, Walks, that’s my motto. Telling me you wouldn’t suck Leroy Sané’s dick?” 

“Yes, I’m telling you that. The thought of it turns my stomach.” 

“Bit homophobic.” 

Kyle’s eyes popped. “What - JOHN,” he hissed, getting up from the table. “Fuck off. If you know what you’re doing, crack on. I won’t say I told you so.” 

John watched Kyle stomp out of the cafeteria, passing Leroy on his way out. John smiled then, because Leroy made him happy, and got back to his banana. 

— 

He planned to leave the third note a couple of days before Valentine’s Day, with the reveal letter being left on the day itself. In this one he wrote about Leroy’s smile being like sunshine, his presence making John feel calm and protective; feel like he was home. He worried briefly that this letter was a bit too full on, but he sealed the envelope anyway, feeling warm and romantic and confident with the looming presence of Valentine’s day. 

— 

When he snuck into the locker rooms to leave the note, he was nearly caught by one of the kit men. 

“Alright, Stonesy?” The guy said, causing John to leap back from Leroy’s locker and turn bright red. 

“What?!” He cried out, heart thumping. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the guy said uncertainly, looking at him suspiciously. “You’re in early. You okay?” 

John nodded and smiled tightly. “Yeah. Haven’t been sleeping well, thought I’d get in early and put a shift in at the gym.” 

It was clear John hadn’t been working out, but the man let it slide. “Alright. Catch you later.” 

He left and John groaned, wondering for the thousandth time if this was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. 

— 

When the team filtered in a little while later, spirits were high. The Champions League was starting again and the prospect had everyone excited. John was bantering with Kyle, laughing about Kyle’s Valentine’s plans, when Oleks came over and asked to borrow a phone. 

“I left mine at home,” he whined, looking at John and Kyle with puppy eyes. “I need to message my friend about our plans tonight, please, guys.” 

“Know his number off by heart, do you?” Kyle asked, raising a brow. 

“I’ll message him on Instagram. Please guys, I can’t be late - “ 

“Here,” John said, passing Oleks his phone. “Be quick.” 

Oleks scampered off to message his friend and John resumed his conversation with Kyle, eyes flickering to where Leroy had just walked into the room. He bit his lip and tried to hide his face as he smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. 

Leroy opened his locker and this time didn’t lift the letter, but John saw a hint of a smile on his face and he beamed himself, rubbing at his own eyes and trying hard not to whoop with excitement. 

“You’re an idiot,” muttered Kyle, but he was smiling too, and John thought he was going to burst with happiness - 

“John, why you’ve been asking Jadon Sancho how to speak German! Leroy and Ilkay are right here!” 

John’s blood ran ice cold. The room fell silent as Oleks laughed goofily, John’s phone in his hand. “Why you are asking him how to say secret admirer? You have girlfriend?” 

“OLEKS!” Kyle barked, loud enough that it made Oleks jump. 

He looked around at the silent room in confusion, taking in the horrified expression on John’s face and the awkward looks on the rest of them. Leroy was staring at John and the tension was thick enough to choke a person. 

“Shit,” Oleks said, putting two and two together. “John - “ 

John marched to Oleksandr and pulled his phone out of his hand, willing himself not to slap him. He pushed out of the changing rooms, humiliated, tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He was mortified and disappointed - his reveal had been taken from him in the worst way possible; at the hands of fucking Zinchenko. 

John wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him and he didn’t make it far before he yelled out in frustration, the word FUCK reverberating along the empty corridor. He slammed his back into the wall and put his head in his hands, groaning loudly. John slid down the wall until he was sat down and wondered how the fuck he was going to face any of his team mates again. 

Then he heard the click of football boots on linoleum and his stomach twisted. Please be Kyle, he thought, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Please be - 

“John?” 

John peered through his fingers at the feet in front of him. It was Leroy, John could tell by his blue boots and the rumble of his voice. He couldn’t say anything, too embarrassed, so he groaned again instead, dropping his forehead onto his knees. John guessed that Leroy had knelt down because when he spoke again, his voice was closer. 

“Stonesy. Don’t be embarrassed, c’mon.” 

Leroy put his hand around John’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his face, looking at him with big eyes and a half smile on his face. 

“Don’t laugh at us,” John mumbled, looking pointedly at the floor so he didn’t need to make eye contact. “This is humiliating.” 

“If it makes a difference, I knew it was you since the first letter.” 

John looked at Leroy. “What?!” 

“I know what your hand writing looks like - “ 

John whined like a pained dog, tipping his head back against the wall. 

“And, Stonesy - I knew you liked me. I’ve known for a long time.” 

John’s face was definitely the colour of beetroot. He stared up at the ceiling and wished to wake up from this like a bad dream, or for someone to burst into the corridor and hit him round the head with something heavy, knocking him unconscious. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” John croaked, wishing Leroy would let go of his wrist so he could cover his face again. “Why did you let me make a twat of myself?” 

“I was - I wanted you to tell me by yourself,” he said softly, and although he wasn’t looking at him John could tell he had a big smile on his face. “I wanted you tell me when you were ready. Stonesy? John. Look at me.” 

John dragged his eyes off the ceiling and looked at Leroy, startled to find that it wasn’t a mean smile on his face but a soft one; affectionate. “I’m sorry. If it’s made you uncomfortable.” 

Leroy frowned. “Uncomfortable? No. No way.” 

John looked at Leroy’s pillowy lips and, for the first time, imagined that he might actually get to feel them on against his own mouth, or wrapped around his cock. He shuddered. “No?” 

Leroy got up and pulled John with him, his eyes still so intense. “No. You’re hot, John.” 

John didn’t imagine his face could get any redder than it already was, but there he was - blushing furiously, barely able to keep his eyes on Leroy’s. “Oh. Thank you,” he said, licking his lips automatically. 

Leroy stared back at him, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. John wondered if he should lean in and kiss him - he’d never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. 

“C’mon, John,” Leroy encouraged under his breath, his hand coming to spread flat against John’s abs. “C’mon with it.” 

John needed no further invitation. He backed Leroy up against the other wall, crowding him and surrounding him, his hand sliding around the back of his neck, ghosting at the springy hair dangling above his shoulders. John leaned down and pressed their mouths together and had to consciously stop himself from moaning with sheer elation; with complete and utter disbelief that this was actually, finally happening. John was astonished by the kiss - Leroy was so soft, so slow. John felt the overwhelming urge to lift him up, make him wrap his legs around John’s waist. He wanted to fuck him on every surface in his house - he wanted to record it, because no one would ever believe it otherwise. Boring old English John Stones and this - this thing of beauty, this absolute worldie - it was almost too good to be true. 

John licked into Leroy’s mouth wetly, hoping his desires were clear through his actions but knowing that if Leroy had known all this time then it must have been clear. It must’ve been all over his face. He was about to slip a thigh between Leroy’s legs when a voice interrupted them. 

“It is about fucking time, Stones!” Snapped an accented voice. John let go of Leroy and spun around to see Pep walking up the the corridor shaking his head. “But both of you. Outside! Now! Practice!” 

John looked back at Leroy, eyes wide. “Does - does everyone know?” 

Leroy grinned and nodded. “You are very - em. What’s the word. Not clear - “ 

“Transparent?” 

“Yes, that’s the one,” Leroy laughed, rocking up and pressing one last kiss to John’s lips. John chased his mouth, eyes remaining closed, but Leroy ducked out from in front of him and started up the corridor after Pep, walking backwards so as to keep John in his sight. “What are you cooking for me on Valentine’s day?” He asked as he went, smile lighting up his face. “Let me know what I should wear. The less the better.” He winked at John and then, just like that, he was round the corner and out of sight. 

John put his hand against the wall and dropped his head down, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths. He laughed, then exhaled, then squeaked a bit. His plan had worked - of course it had worked. It was genius. 

He couldn’t wait to rub it in Kyle’s face. 

 

************************

Dele totally forgot it was Valentine’s Day. 

Impressive, really, considering that the fucking holiday was EVERYWHERE. Everywhere you turned, everywhere you looked - the commercial holiday of love was shoved down your throat, and had been since the moment the Christmas decorations were pulled down across the country. 

Still, it wasn’t until he was driving to training on a cold February Thursday that he heard it on the radio - it was Valentine’s Day. He cursed out loud, hands clenching around the steering wheel. He’d arranged to have Eric come over later, yeah, but he thought they were just going to hang out like any normal evening after work. He slapped himself on the forehead, astounded by how obtuse he’d been. 

When he got to work he sought Eric out immediately, coming to stand close by him and pressing his fingers down around Eric’s big wrist. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he whispered, voice low. “I love you.” 

Eric looked around before he responded, gaging their privacy levels, and smiled warmly. “I thought you’d forgotten. Happy Valentine’s, Del.” 

“Are we still on for tonight?” Dele asked, taking a step back and stretching out his arms for training. 

“Yeah? Unless you’ve started seeing someone else in the last 48 hours.” 

Dele laughed. “Winksy turned me down, or I would have done.” 

“Winks would never turn you down.” 

Dele snorted and they went outside, fast becoming distracted by their job. 

— 

Dele dashed out of the training centre with a quick goodbye chucked over his shoulder and his brain scrambling for ideas. He’d need to prepare a meal and he had fuck all in the fridge - a couple of meals that’d been left by his nutritionist, but he couldn’t serve Eric up chicken breast and fucking green beans. The closest supermarket was M&S, and he decided he couldn’t really go wrong with a good old dine in for two. 

He found a space and jogged into the shop, praying no one would bother him. A couple of people double took at the sight of him - fuck the fucking World Cup - but the look on his face must’ve been serving as a good warning. He didn’t want to be bothered right now. Dele came to a screeching halt at the food fridges and was pissed off to note that the selection had been seriously picked over. 

Ten minutes later he was in line at the self service check out with a packet of creamy mashed potatoes, two luxury chicken kievs, a packet of Brussels sprouts and a packet of profiteroles. It didn’t match - you eat kievs with chips, for God’s sake - but it was about the only thing left that wasn’t obscenely unhealthy. Dele paid and then rushed out before the group of young lads congregating and pointing at him could ask for selfies and sped off home to put the food in the oven. 

— 

When Eric knocked at the door a couple hours later, Dele was pulling the slightly blackened chickens out of the oven and cursing under his breath, the fire alarm ringing shrilly over his head. Hearing the commotion from outside, Eric tried the door handle and let himself in, rushing to the kitchen and grabbing a dish towel to wave at the fire alarms. 

“Jesus!” He shouted over the wailing alarm, looking at Dele with wide eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Trying to cook you dinner!” Dele snapped, dropping the tray of chicken on the stove top and turning off the oven. “The instructions said to cook it for thirty minutes! It’s only been 28!” 

The alarm finally stopped whining thanks to Eric’s waving and he looked from the burnt chicken to Dele, topless in a pair of shorts and white socks, cheeks shiny with exertion. Eric couldn’t help but smile, dumping the towel down and reaching out. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he grinned, pulling Dele close and kissing him on the mouth. “Thank you for making me dinner.” 

They kissed slowly, Dele pushing his hands under Eric’s jacket and sliding it off his shoulders, letting it fall on the kitchen floor. He wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist, enjoying the soft feeling of his T-shirt against his own bare chest. 

The only salvageable bit of the meal was the profiteroles, but Eric still pretended to enjoy the main course even though he hated sprouts and the chicken was drier than a box of tissues. Dele kept on wiping the cream inside his profiterole onto Eric’s face and then licking it off again, and thanks to the glass of white wine they’d both consumed for the occasion they were finding it extremely amusing, sniggering like school kids every time Dele leaned in and flicked his tongue against Eric’s nose. They were both a little bit hard, both very much in love and both a little bit tipsy when Eric got up and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a red box with a white ribbon around it. 

Dele’s face fell. Fuck - he hadn’t expected presents. He hadn’t gotten Eric anything. Fuck, fuck, fuck - 

“It’s alright if you didn’t get me anything,” Eric said, reading Dele’s expression. “I just wanted to get this for you. I wanted you to have it.” 

He came back to the table and set the box down in front of Dele, looking at him expectantly. Dele looked down at the box, and then back at Eric. He knew a Cartier box when he saw one. 

“Eric - “ 

“Open it.” 

Dele pulled the ribbon off carefully and then opened the box. Inside was a white gold bracelet. It was a thin band with little screws along it, and it was gorgeous. Dele looked at Eric with wide eyes, licking his lips involuntarily. 

“C’mere,” he said, pulling Eric in by the back of the neck. “I fucking love you.” They kissed some more, hot and open mouthed. It struck Dele that even though he didn’t have a gift for Eric, he could still give him a nice present this Valentine’s day - he could give him the ride of his life. He pulled back and tipped their foreheads together, both of them breathing heavily, Dele’s waist digging into the dining table. “I’m going to give you your present now,” Dele murmured, his thumbs moving back and forth over the sides of Eric’s neck. “This is a one time event, Dier, you understand. Don’t get used to any of this.” 

He sat back and stood up, putting a hand out for Eric to take. They moved through the house quickly, up the stairs and into Dele’s bedroom, pausing only on the stairs to press urgent kisses into to each other’s mouths because apparently two minutes without exchanging saliva was two minutes too long. 

Dele walked Eric to the bed and pushed him down on it, going away to flick the lamps on and close the door. Eric watched him from the mattress, erection clearly visible in his joggers. Dele approached him again and nudged his legs apart so that he was standing between them where they dangled at the foot of the bed. Eric was observing him with a bemused smirk, one arm propping his head up slightly. Already he was highly entertained because the thing about Dele was - as much as he hated to admit it - he was a complete receiver in bed. 

Every time they had sex he attempted to do as little work as possible - he liked to receive blow jobs, hand jobs and rim jobs and was always happy to lie on his back or bend over and be fucked, but when it came to reciprocating he was lazy, uninterested - he’d do it of course, he loved Eric and he did love getting him off - but he was never exactly eager about it, trying to make Eric come as quickly as possible so they could move on back to him. Eric knew it wasn’t a big deal - Dele was just a bit of an attention whore, that was fine - but it did mean he had to take charge, had to choreograph their sex life, had to decide what was happening at any given time. Lying back here, now, with Dele stood between his legs looking like that - it was maybe worth more than any Cartier bracelet. 

“So,” Dele began, his hands coming to squeeze at Eric’s thighs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make you come at least three times before I’ve even come once, and you can choose how each one happens. Kay?” 

Eric swallowed and nodded his assent. 

“And then I’m going to ride you. You don’t have to move a muscle. I’ll do all the work.” 

“Wow.” 

“Yeah. How do you want the first one?” 

“First what?” 

“First orgasm, you tit.” 

“Oh,” Eric laughed softly. “Blow me, please.” 

Dele tugged at Eric’s waist band and pulled his trousers down and off, kneeling at the foot of the bed and putting kisses on his hairy thighs as he worked a hand over his hard dick. Eric sighed happily when Dele took the head in his mouth, flicking his tongue expertly, and then - surprise surprise - swallowed him all the way down, until Eric’s cock was bumping the back of Dele’s throat and he was gagging slightly, coming back up with a loud pop. 

Eric sat up on his forearms and stared at Dele in shock. “Didn’t mention you could fucking deep throat, Del!” 

“Shut up,” Dele croaked, going back down again. He used his hand to make Eric feel surrounded as he sucked at him like a calippo, revealing that he actually can suck dick very well when he wants to. 

Eric wanted to ask him why he usually put loads of teeth in and moaned about his jaw hurting but he decided that was not the right moment and put his hand in Dele’s hair instead, pulling on it and causing Dele to hum against the head of his dick. Eric groaned, feeling heat rise in his belly. He tried to think unsexy thoughts - he didn’t know when he’d get a blow job like this from Dele again - but he lasted a mere six minutes before he was coming down Dele’s throat, a low pitched groan filling the room. 

Dele stood up and wiped at his mouth as Eric caught his breath. He took off his shorts and climbed onto the bed beside Eric, clearly very hard himself. Eric pulled at him for a kiss and they made out like that for a while, Eric’s soft dick lying happily between his legs, Dele’s erection sticking up obviously against his hip. 

“Never gonna let you off with a half hearted blow job again, Del,” Eric said, running the back of his fingers up and down Dele’s abs. “You’re a little fucker, did you know that?” 

“How do you want your second one?” Dele asked, changing the subject. 

Eric let a gust of breath blow out of his pursed lips. “Fuck, already? It’s going to take me a minute to get hard again.” 

“Want to watch porn?” 

“Not really?” 

Dele chewed at the inside of his cheek, and then his eyes lit up. “I know. Wait there,” he said, hopping off the bed and leaving the room. 

Eric sat up against the pillows and waited, taking his T-shirt off whilst he did. It didn’t take long for him to hear Dele’s feet on the stairs and then he was back in the room, but this time with his phone pressed to his ear. Eric frowned at him, confused - and then he choked on his own breath. 

“Winksy,” Dele said into the phone, grinning at Eric. “How’s it going?”

Eric stared at Dele, mouthing WHAT ARE YOU DOING? But Dele ignored him, climbing back onto the bed and sitting on his knees at Eric’s side. 

“Sounds great, that. Listen, Harry - I’m here with Eric. Can I put you on speaker?” Harry must’ve agreed because Dele brought the phone from his ear and tapped at the screen. “Hello?” Dele said. 

“Hello?” 

Eric’s stomach twisted at the sound of Harry’s voice, even tinny as it was through the phone. He glared at Dele, then said “Hey, Winks.” 

“How you doing, Eric?” 

“Not bad,” Eric said, trying not to sound strangled. “How are you?” 

“I’m great, just had dinner, nothing exciting. What are you two up to?” 

Eric looked at Dele pleadingly, begging him silently not to do anything stupid. Dele stared into Eric’s eyes as he said “Remember that conversation we had over Christmas? The drunk one, the one about Eric having a crush on you?” 

“Dele.” Eric hissed, sitting up straighter. Dele put his finger to his lips and frowned, telling him to be quiet. 

Harry paused, then tentatively said “...yeah?” 

“Well. The thing is, I’m trying to get Eric hard here - Valentine’s Day and all that - but he’s just come not long ago. So I was wondering if you’d be good enough to help him out.” Eric groaned in embarrassment and let his head fall into his hands, quite astonished that Dele was actually doing this right now. The other end of the phone was silent, and Eric wanted to curl up in a ball and die, he really did. “Winksy?” 

Harry cleared his throat. “Sorry. What - I’m not sure what you’re asking me?” 

“Ignore him, Harry,” Eric interjected, looking at Dele like he wanted to murder him. “He’s being a tit - “ 

“No, don’t ignore me. I’m asking if you’d like to help me get Eric off. You can say no, no one’s going to be offended - “ 

“Er - get him off what?” 

“Don’t act dumb. Eric fucking fancies you and I want him to have the sex of his life so here I am, phoning his fantasy crush like a good boyfriend. Are you game or not?” 

“Dele fancies you too,” Eric half heartedly shouted, rolling his eyes as Dele flipped him off. 

“This isn’t about me. Winks? Are you with us?” 

“Yeah, I’m - you two are fucking strange - but, whatever, fine. What do I have to do?” 

Dele licked his lips gleefully. “Just chat to us. Hang up if it gets too much, right?” 

“Okay?” 

“Eric had a wet dream about you the other night.” 

“DELE!” Eric shouted, really, truly unimpressed. “For fucks sake!” 

“Did he?” Harry squeaked on the phone. 

“Woke himself up with his pants all messy. Haven’t had a wet dream since you were like 17, have you Dier?” 

Eric wanted to shove Dele’s phone up his arse. He stared at him murderously, and Dele raised his eyebrows at him, imploring him to speak. Eric shook his head and was about to wrestle him for the phone when Harry said quietly “I’ve had sex dreams about you, too.” 

“Tell us,” Dele commanded, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Tell us now.” 

“Tell me your dream first, Eric.” 

Eric looked at the phone, then at Dele, and sighed. “Okay. I - in the dream you let me fuck you,” he mumbled, cheeks beginning to heat up. “We were at St George’s. You came and knocked on my door...” 

“Go on,” Dele encouraged him. 

“You were hard and needy and you begged me to fuck you,” Eric said in a rush, covering his eyes with his hand. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, mortified. If Dele thought this was going to make him hard again he was wrong, so fucking - 

“Shit,” Harry gasped. “That’s - that’s so hot,” he said quietly. “I’ve thought about that. Before. Away games and that when we’re in hotels, I’ve thought about - I had a wank once, think we were in Germany. Your room was next to mine and I - I imagined what it’d be like if I texted you asking you to come over. Sorry Del, no offence - “ 

“None taken.” 

“I came and then I was paranoid I’d shouted your name and you’d heard it through the wall. I couldn’t fucking remember what I’d done when I’d come because the orgasm was that intense. I was well terrified.” 

Dele was staring at Eric open mouthed with his eyebrows in the vicinity of his hairline, whacking Eric on the bicep and bouncing slightly on the mattress like he couldn’t quite believe that Harry was actually going for it. Eric looked at Dele exasperatedly but there was no denying what they both knew - Eric was fattening up again, his cock giving the slightest twitch of arousal against his thigh. 

“You’re getting him hard, Winksy,” Dele said softly, patting Eric on the thigh. “There’s some signs of life in the old anaconda yet.” 

Eric chose to ignore Dele. “Harry, that’s - I really like hearing that. That makes me feel good.” 

“You want me to make you feel good, yeah?” Harry said, voice lower now. “Would you be into that?” 

“I bet you could make me feel so good,” Eric said, his fingers scratching at the bed sheets. “I reckon you’d be shit hot in bed.” 

“I’m really hard,” Harry said, laughing a bit. “I’m sat here with a raging hard on right now.” 

“Tell him to touch himself,” whispered Dele. Eric eyeballed him aggressively. 

“I wish you were here,” Eric said, feeling his cock start to fill up properly. “What would you do if you were here?” 

“Christ. Kiss you both? Definitely - lots of kissing. I love kissing. Del?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you kiss him for me?” 

“Kay.” 

Dele leaned in and kissed Eric, who was doing his best to be grumpy with Dele - even though things were working out swimmingly, he still wasn’t happy. It was hard, though, to stay mad when Dele was kissing him dirtily like that and the guy they both fancied was on the phone, listening to them, telling them what to do. It was very, very hard to stick to his resolve. 

“Is he hard yet?” 

Dele looked down at Eric’s bottom half. “Yeah, he’s got a proper semi.” 

“I’d just like - play with him for a bit, I think,” Harry said next. “Can you do it for me?” 

Dele took Eric in his hand and did as he was told, steadfastly ignoring the throbbing erection in his boxers. Eric was staring slack jawed at the phone, and Dele had to nudge him to speak. 

“Are you - “ Eric’s voice broke, so he started again - “Are you touching yourself? I want you to get yourself off, Winks.” 

They could hear the rustle of fabric and then a soft moan that they assumed was Harry getting a hand on himself. Eric pinched himself on the thigh, completely sure he was dreaming. 

“How do you want the orgasm?” Dele said into Eric’s neck, holding the phone near his mouth so Harry could hear them. 

“I - “ 

“Have you had a blowie already?” Harry said, voice rough. 

“Yeah,” Eric huffed, fully hard in Dele’s hand now. “Yeah, that was how I got off first.” 

“Have you - “ Harry paused, careful. “Will you fuck each other?” 

“Del’s going to ride me after the third orgasm. Gotta come twice before that.” 

They both heard Harry groan quietly and it made them both sigh, utterly turned on. 

“I want to fuck your abs,” Eric said eventually, eyes on Dele’s tight stomach. “Want to come on your belly.” 

Harry’s breathing was heavy on the phone. Dele smiled, nodded. “Okay. Get the lube.” 

Dele lay down on his back whilst Eric fished in the night stand for the bottle of lube Dele kept there. He came back and flipped the cap, squeezing it out onto Dele’s stomach. Dele hissed at the coldness of the lube, his muscles jumping.

“What’s happening?” Harry asked on the phone. 

“I’m pouring lube onto his stomach,” Eric said, tossing the bottle away once he was satisfied. 

“It’s cold,” Dele contributed. 

Eric lowered himself over Dele’s waist and began sliding his dick through the slick, rolling his eyes at how nice it felt. 

“Are you still getting off?” He asked Harry, glancing away from Dele’s stomach to look at the phone. 

“Yeah. This is so bizarre.” 

“But it’s so hot,” Dele breathed, eyes glued to Eric’s dick rolling back and forward on his tummy. He put one of his hands between their bodies and held it over Eric’s dick, giving him some proper friction. 

Eric moaned, eyelids closing. “Shit. That’s nice,” he said. “Feels so nice.” 

“It turns me on that you’re enjoying yourself,” Harry said, ever sweet and keen. 

Eric wished he was there so he could touch him. “I want to kiss you, Winks,” he said breathily, voice cracking on the vowels. 

“Same,” Harry huffed, the unmistakeable sound of a hand on a cock coming through the phone’s little speaker. “Jesus.” 

For a while it was just the sound of the three of them breathing, Eric fucking Dele’s hand and his belly, Harry fucking his own fist, Dele’s cock straining against his pants. 

“I’m going to come soon,” Harry said eventually. 

“Yeah?” Eric and Dele said at the same time, and then they kissed, smiling into each other’s mouths. 

“Yeah. Gonna make a mess.” 

“Yeah? Gonna come all over your own hand, thinking about us?” 

“Fuck. Yeah. You’re both so hot,” Harry panted, and Eric sped up too in time with Harry’s breathing, his hips pistoning against Dele’s skin. “Any minute now.” 

“Come, Winksy,” Eric said, dropping his forehead onto Dele’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. “Come for us.” 

“Shit,” Harry hissed, his breath stuttering. 

They both knew he was coming and it made Eric come too, spurting thick streams up Dele’s chest, enough that it nearly landed on his chin. He gasped Harry’s name as he came but it was lost against Dele’s neck. 

It was quiet for a while, no one speaking. Dele had to check the call was still connected - it was, he was still with them. Eric sat up gingerly and looked down at Dele’s pants, biting his bottom lip. 

“There’s a wet patch in Dele’s pants, Harry, and he hasn’t even come yet,” he observed, breaking the silence. 

“That just made my dick just move and it’s literally so dead,” Harry half laughed. 

“Thanks, Winksy,” Dele said, eyes locked on Eric’s. “Thanks for helping out.” 

“Thanks for calling me.” 

“We should talk about this,” Eric said. “Another time, we should look into this.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Harry answered. “Right. I’ll let you go then?” 

Neither of them wanted to hang up the phone, but they had to get on with things. 

“Have a good night, Harry,” Dele said, waiting to hear Harry say goodbye before he hung up the phone. 

Eric exhaled a breath through puffed up cheeks and shook his head. “That was fucking stupid, Del.” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

“Yeah, but - “ 

“Shut up. Let me eat you out now.” 

Eric spent the next forty minutes with Dele’s face in his arse. It took him a while to get hard again - he was exhausted, frankly, and wanted nothing more than to have a nap - but he couldn’t not be interested in the way Dele was licking at him, moaning freely like he was turning himself on just by eating Eric out. 

Eric came the third time with Dele’s hand on his dick and his tongue just inside his body. Once his ears had stopped ringing he turned over and reached for Dele, his hand going to his neglected cock, and Dele slapped his hand away, moving back from him quickly. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch. I’ll come instantly, I swear.” 

“I want you to come. Please, c’mon.” 

“No. Not like that,” Dele said, and Eric had to admire his stoicism. 

It took another fifty minutes to get Eric hard enough for Dele to ride him. Eric wanted to cry, and kept whining that this was too much, too much for him - Dele slapped him gently on the cheek and held him by the chin. 

“Dry your eyes you fucking pussy. Stop being ungrateful.” 

When Dele sank down onto Eric’s dick he had to stay still for a moment, eyes closed, employing all his self control not to come right away. His cock was hard and flushed and leaking against his stomach, Eric’s dry come from earlier still streaked up his chest. He started moving slowly, but soon built up a solid rhythm - he was athletic, obviously, and therefore very very good at this. Eric watched him in awe, the flex of his muscles, the glow of his skin, the hardness of his cock. 

“Let me make you come,” he said eventually, voice croaky. “That looks painful Del.” 

Dele bounced for a few more moments and then he nodded, lifting Eric’s hand off his thigh and placing it on his dick. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

He came after about four strokes, and he wasn’t even ashamed. He fell forward onto Eric’s chest and let him take over, thrusting into him and coming a fourth time, his hands digging in hard enough to leave marks. 

They lay there, absolutely filthy and utterly exhausted. Eric could hardly stay awake - he knew he had to get up and shower, but all he wanted to do was slide under the sheets and fall asleep. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, patting Dele on the closest bit of his body. “I love you.” 

“Happy Valentine’s day Dier. I did forget, by the way. This was too much work, though, next year I’m not fucking forgetting no matter what.” 

“I know you did. I still love you.” 

 

******************

 

Jordan woke up on Valentine’s Day to John star-fished on top of him, dribbling onto his shoulder and snoring lightly. He smiled and wrapped an arm around his back, pressing his lips to the top of John’s head. 

“Stonesy,” he whispered, scratching at his back. “Wakey wakey. It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

John hummed, pressing his face closer to Jordan’s skin. 

“Good morning sunshine,” Jordan said a bit louder, massaging the back of John’s neck. “Time to get up and give your boyfriend head!” 

“Time is it?” John mumbled, wrapping tighter around Jordan’s body like a boa constrictor. 

“Time you licked my bollocks.” 

John turned his head so he was facing Jordan’s neck and yawned, rubbing his nose against Jordan’s skin. “So tired.”

“I loooove you,” Jordan said, wrapping his legs around John’s. “Looooove youuuuu sooooo much.” 

“Give me a baby,” John said suddenly, and Jordan laughed. 

“A what?” 

“Put a baby in us,” John said, voice lagging a bit, a sign he was falling asleep again. “Baby in my belly. Or let me put a baby in you.” 

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this,” Jordan said softly, kissing his head again. “I’d love to give you a baby.” 

“Let’s have babies, Jordy.” 

“Okay. But you need to wake up first. You need to be awake for this.” 

“Ugh. Just fuck me when I’m sleeping, please.” 

“Not funny. Do you need a consent lesson?” 

“This is getting less sexy by the second.” 

Jordan flipped John over then so that he was on top, leaning over John with menacing eyes. “Shut up, you complete idiot. I love you.” Jordan kissed him, grinding against him slowly. He pulled back and started kissing all over his face, down his neck, across his chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Stonesy,” Jordan said again, pushing his face into his stomach. “Let’s make some babies.”


End file.
